It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. . "Begone! or I fire!" he cried. “Of course!” he said.
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